Bloodborne - Something Wicked
by RetroidRogue
Summary: WARNING: CONTAINS EXTREMELY DISTURBING IMAGERY. Within the world of Bloodborne, a hunter known simply as Jack stalks the streets of Yarnham at night, eager to collect the tainted blood of his next victim. But when a crusade conspires against him, the hunter just might become the hunted.
1. New Faces

**Bloodborne: Something Wicked**

**Chapter One**

**"New Faces"**

"Please, sir, please! Spare me!"

Boots clacked against concrete as Jack circled his newest victim, who he had tied to a support beam.

"I-I'll give ya anythin' ya want! Money?! Armor?! Ammo?! I gots lotsa anythin'!"

Jack pushed his hat up, away from his blood-red eyes. An arm came up, his second hand tightening his glove as he wriggled his fingers into a more comfortable fit.

"Please don' hurt me misteh Jack! Please!"

The hunter rolled his head as he fixed how his bandana sat between his neck and his collar. Stepping up to a table, Jack took hold of a makeshift weapon consisting of a crooked, wooden handle and a rusty saw.

His victim, an overly hairy man with pale eyes and a crooked face, writhed against his restraints, "No! No, please! You can't do this to me! This is crazy, this is..."

He was interrupted by his own screams of agony as Jack drove his saw into the man's stomach. Blood burst from his abdomen as shreds of digestive organs caught on his jagged blade. Organic matter took hold of the rusting metal as he slid the tool back through the skin, swiping at the air to clean the saw of loose shreds. The man screamed and thrashed, blood gurgling in his throat as his crooked jaw gasped for air.

Moving back to the table, Jack set his tool back down to take a flask. Holding the glass jar up to the man's mouth, he forcefully took hold of his victim's neck, shaking the man until he spit blood into the jar. Jack rammed his fist into the man's open abdomen, forcing more blood up, through the man's esophagus and, by extension, into the flask.

The Gothic hunter continued this process until the small jar was nearly full, at which point he sealed the flask and set it back on his table. Grasping his saw once more, he returned to the man, who, through bloody gurgles and gasps for air, managed to utter, "Please..."

Jack took hold of the man's face, digging his fingers into the victim's eye sockets. Only a muffled cry sounded as he tilted the peasant's head back, against the support beam. Flipping a metal switch toward the handle of his weapon, he folded it to make a smaller, more forceful saw. With rhythmic motions, Jack sawed his way into the dying man's throat and through his vertebrae. A simple pull was enough to tear the remaining tendons, severing the victim's head entirely.

Examining the man's jaw as he stalked back to his table, Jack tucked his blade under his arm and wrenched the head's largest tooth out of its mouth. Jack dropped the tooth into a clay jar before tossing the head aside, into a bin that Jack had long since gone nose-blind to.

With an old cloth, the hunter wiped blood and shreds of guts off his blade. Using the same cloth to clean his gloves, Jack set his tool down.

The sound of bone crumbling between grindstone sounded as an ominous voice spoke, "Thirty minutes to sun rise, Jack."

"Good 'morrow to you, too, Charles," Jack greeted his companion, stuffing the cloth into his breast pocket. "I assume Mr. Morgann has requested an audience with me?"

"You _are_ the cripple's only regular," the otherworldly messenger reminded him. "We received a scroll with your name on it."

Jack turned, eying the skeleton, who half-way through some sort of portal in the floor. The scroll was old, practically falling apart.

Chuckling to himself as he fixed how the cuff of his sleeve rested over his glove, Jack shook his head, amused, "Another admirer begging for my assistance, no doubt. I'm on a tight schedule, Charles. Would you kindly decline the offer for me?"

"She said it was urgent," the skeleton insisted, holding the the scroll out to Jack.

"'She'?" he echoed, his curiosity caught once more. After a moment of deep thought, Jack chuckled, "My, my, I had no idea it was _that_ type of admirer. Leave it with the others, if you would be so kind, Charles. I shall tend to it on the 'morrow."

"As you wish," the messenger sighed, crawling his way to a rat-infested corner. Disgruntled, he set the scroll atop seven or eight others.

Jack shoved his latest flask into a sack containing many others with similar contents. Taking it and his weapon, he headed for an old door. With a glance back at the skeleton, he nodded, "Well, 'til dusk, Charles."

With that, he left.

Sylvester Morgann's homestead was not unlike Jack's dungeon, old and rat-infested. The door, however, was much heftier, clearly in need of some oil. Truly, it would take a demon to tear down the door, the way Morgann left it latched all the time. Jack preferred to enter the homestead via the catacombs, which had a secret entrance in Morgann's basement.

"Jack!" Morgann called out as soon as the hunter stepped in the door. "Come here, boy!"

Jack did as instructed, quickly ascending a flight of stairs. The old man, forever attached to his wheelchair, was at his desk, working on a letter of some sort.

Moving forward, Jack set the sack of flasks down on the old man's desk, beside his paper and ink jar. "Courtesy of the Hounds."

"Those beasts still givin' you trouble?" Morgann chuckled, pillaging through the sack eagerly.

"Wounded one around midnight," Jack reported, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall and eyed Morgann's letter. "Sasha, t'was. Nasty girl, you know. She left me a trail. Got caught in a web along the way. Nothing I couldn't handle, of course, but I lost her scent."

"And that's news?" Morgann inquired, frustrated.

"'Course 'tis," Jack nodded. "Her den's toward the gardens. On the Eastern side of Yarnham. Three nights will see the Hounds' hides are on your wall. And their blood on your desk."

"Good, that's good, Jack," Morgann nodded, taking the sack as he wheeled over to a cabinet, inside of which sat several more jars of blood. "Keep this up and we could be done by August."

Jack followed Morgann at a much slower pace, eying the letter once more. The cripple was only two sentences in, but Jack understood that it was to one of Morgann's allies in the North, likely an informative letter regarding the state of the old man's research. "And what happens in August?"

"You know I don't like discussing my work, Jack," the cripple grumbled, hastily setting the jars of blood next to the others. Replacing them with empty flasks, he returned the bag to Jack. Morgann closed the cabinet before returning to his letter.

"How're our Northern brethren faring these days?" Jack inquired harmlessly, peering over Morgann's shoulder.

"Mind your own business, Jack," the cripple sighed, dipping his quill into his ink jar.

"I see," the hunter nodded. Stepping toward a stairwell, Jack offered, "Send Holloway my regards."

"Goodnight, Jack," Morgann grumbled.

Tipping his hat courteously, Jack replied, "And good day to you, Mr. Morgann. 'Til dusk."

Without another word from either party, Jack moved up the stairs, disappearing into the dark confines of his personal chamber.

The sun had set by the time Jack reappeared, though he and Morgann made little more conversation than a simple greeting. The old cripple was hard at work on his incomprehensible experiments. Jack hardly offered a second glance before returning to the catacombs.

Ten minutes showed him to his dungeon, which was conveniently attached to the catacombs themselves.

As soon as his boot was through the door, Jack got to work. Yesterday's corpse was already beginning to smell, an odor that made the dogs in the back restless. Working silently and efficiently, Jack fed the pack of hounds before clearing his workspace, cleaning his weapon, loading his rifle, and counting the teeth in his jar. After adding the appropriate number of marks to his wall, Jack took his sack of flasks and headed for the door.

His heeled boots came to a halt as the stack of scrolls in the corner of the room caught his eye. The newest note was marked with a red ribbon, symbolizing its urgency. Jack glared at the scroll for a long moment before continuing out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The night's usual mob had gathered in an old courtyard, where a gallon of Sasha's blood had been spilled out, onto the concrete. The crowd's murmurs quickly dissipated to nothing once Jack entered the courtyard, his makeshift sword in one hand, his primitive firearm in the other. Curious glances watched him as he knelt down beside the largest pool of blood, placing his hand against it. Indeed, it was Sasha's. He had the correct courtyard.

"Skeleton Jack?!"

The hunter turned his head to see that a hairy, bandaged man was approaching him slowly, a club in his hand.

"I've heard stories 'bout you!"

Jack slowly raised himself to his feet, watching the man with piercing, somehow demonic eyes.

"They's told me ya _killed_ one 'them beasts. Why, it ain't e'ery day I gets ta meet a legend!"

Hooking his rifle to his belt, Jack turned to get a better look at the others in the crowd. Five others were already approaching Jack, all from different angles. Many more were silently debating joining them.

"Now, heel like a good dog and I'll kill ya quick. Or you..."

Jack lashed an arm out, grabbing the man's fingers as he shortened his tool. Pulling the infected peasant close, he jammed his saw into the man's wrist. A snap sounded before the man squealed like a pig, his hand coming free of his arm as he stumbled backward, blood spurting from his stump. Jack tossed the hand aside, stalking toward the man, who was screaming on the top of his lungs. The man attempted to retreat but tripped, hitting the concrete with his back. Jack elongated his blade before forcing it through the peasant's ribcage, crushing bone and splattering blood. Using his boot for leverage, Jack pulled his blade down the man's body to his genitals, tearing through flesh and vital organs.

Ripping his saw free of the crying man, he swung at the air, tossing loose shreds into the crowd. Stepping up to the dying man's head, Jack forced the heel of his boot into the man's eye socket, carelessly crushing bone and, eventually, gray matter. Jack's would-be assailant let out one last scream before rolling his head and falling silent.

Taking hold of his rifle, Jack circled the body, looking about the horrified crowd as he spoke up, "Now then, has anyone seen Sasha? Large, hairy, you would never know she was a girl. Vicious bitch, she is. Likely roaming with a limp this time of night. Anyone?"

"One o' the beasts was seen near the Cathedral, misteh Jack," a man spoke quickly through crooked teeth.

"The Cathedral? Of Nightingale?" Jack inquired, glaring at the man as he stalked toward the exit. Once he was confident the peasant had told the truth, he tipped his hat to the crowd and spoke, "Appreciate your help."

He turned and moved for the door, clearly in no hurry. A tall, muscular infected with chains and armor stepped in front of him, dual battleaxes at the ready.

Jack sighed, "There's always one in a crowd, isn't there?"

Another man just as large stepped out behind him, an impossibly large greatsword resting on his shoulder. The second man readied his sword as Jack turned, firing a slug into the first's kneecap. He screeched as Jack moved to his side, jamming his blade into the back of the brute's neck. The vicious beast of a man thrashed, turning to slash at the hunter with one of his axes. Jack propelled himself over the blade, firing a second bullet into the man's other kneecap. Slamming his saw into the man's shoulder and tugging forced the brute onto his hands and knees. The second challenger's sword came down just as Jack withdrew his blade from the flesh and stepped to the side. The metal blade cracked the first brute's skull wide open, spilling gray matter onto the concrete.

The remaining man pulled his sword back to his body as Jack withdrew his rifle and took a second set of wooden handles out of a leather quiver on his back. Quickly attaching it to his weapon, he twisted the blade and contorted the handles to make a scythe just as tall as Jack himself.

Enraged, the challenger swung his sword horizontally, but Jack easily hopped the blade. He spun on his heels, using his scythe to force the man's feet out from under him. Bringing the blade back around, he cut a deep gash in the beast's face, just below his nostrils. The man screamed, holding his bleeding face in pain before swinging his sword a second time. Jack dropped, ducking underneath the metal before swinging his scythe upward, tearing a tendon in his opponent's arm. The limb went limp as Jack brought his scythe straight down, into the brute's side. The man cried and thrashed as Jack moved to stand on top of him, digging a heel into the newly formed gash. Slashing his weapon into the man's throat and leaving it lodged, Jack took a flask from his pouch before reaching down, into the man's body to find a swollen artery, a common symptom of the Plague. Once one was found, he carefully lifted it to use it as a hose, filling the flask with infected blood. As soon as the flask was full, he sealed it, slid it back into his bag, retrieved his scythe, and left the brute to bleed to death on the stone floor.

Removing the extra length he had added to his weapon for the fight, Jack took out his filthy cloth to clean his blade before tossing it aside. He ripped a white cotton bandage off of the chest of his first victim, stuffing it into his breast pocket as the remainder of the mob looked on.

Taking one last look at the crowd, Jack continued toward the Cathedral.

The alleyway before him was long and dark, but a hunter such as Jack was never afraid.

A woman, clearly a fellow hunter, stepped out, into the alleyway before him. One hand on her belt, the other hanging loosely in the air, she greeted Jack, "Mister Jack the Ripper, I presume? It's a pleasure to meet you. My name's Luna."

As he approached her, she held her hand out to him. Quickly, Jack raised his weapon and jabbed the blade at the hunter's face, the metal only millimeters from her nose.

She stared into his eyes, her expression unchanging as she spoke, "No need for alarm. I'm the one that gave the messenger the letter with your name on it. I trust he gave it to you?"

"Perhaps," was all Jack offered.

"Then you know of the plot against you?" Luna questioned.

"When you carry a name like mine, you get used to there being plots transpiring against you," Jack replied matter-of-factly.

"I could only imagine," Luna nodded, suddenly sympathetic. "But you must trust me, I'm here to help you."

They glared into each others' eyes for a long moment before Jack chuckled softly, lowering his weapon, "Whoever taught you taught you well. Your courage is unwavering. But your heart is pounding. I scare you, don't I? Come."

Jack moved around her, continuing down the path as Luna stood still, speechless. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she raced after him.

"I'm after a Hound named Sasha. I've word she's been spotted near the Cathedral. Care to join me in the hunt?" Jack inquired.

"The Cathedral?!" Luna gasped. Moving to stand in his way, she spoke quickly, "No! You mustn't go there!"

"Why not?" Jack wanted to know, glaring into her eyes. "Is that where the Hounds reside? Believe me, I can handle the pack."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Luna assured him.

Jack eyed her curiously, thinking his response through carefully.

Before he was able to breathe a word, a bullet came out of nowhere, striking Jack in the shoulder. Blood flew in the air as the force of the impact threw the hunter off balance.

"Jack!" Luna cried, but the hunter clutched his wound and looked past her, down the street.

Under the soft glow of a streetlight stood five figures of various shapes and sizes. One of them held a smoking rifle. The others consisted of a large, overly muscular man with a large axe; a tall, slim man in a full suit of armor; a shorter woman in an old robe; and an older man wearing a religious headdress and garb.

Quite the group, truly.

Jack attempted to ready his blade, but the wound was too severe to move his arm. Instead, he unhooked his rifle and, with a single arm, aimed it at the group, all of whom had begun toward him and Luna. To his surprise, Luna lowered his rifle with a hand.

Once their eyes met, Luna blinked slowly, speaking solemnly, "I'm sorry, Jack."

She shot a fist up at him, striking him in the nose and knocking him backward, allowing her to claim possession of his rifle. Turning it around, she fired, busting Jack's kneecap. The hunter clenched his teeth but refused to give her the satisfaction of a scream as he dropped to his good knee.

Luna moved to kneel down before him, "Don't take this personally, Jack, please. I have to do this."

Jack used his good arm to grasp her collar, pulling her close enough for their noses to touch, "I _will_ find you, and I swear to whatever god you worship, I will bathe Yarnham in your blood."

As if terrified, Luna pushed herself away from him, taking a few steps back as she stared into his eyes. Swallowing hard and crossing her arms, Luna stepped aside as the knight moved up to Jack, dropping to a knee before him. "So _this_ is the mighty Jack the Ripper? A huge disappointment, truly. And here I was expecting a challenge. Oh, well. I suppose people have a tendency to exaggerate their tales. Kill him."

The woman with the rifle stepped up to Jack, firing a slug into his thigh. Clenching the wound, Jack toppled onto his side. His assailant then forced the barrel of the rifle against his forehead.

Fearlessly, Jack stared up at them, his eyes glowing in the moonlight.

His assailant pulled the trigger, and he was dead.


	2. One Man's Curse

**Bloodborne – Something Wicked**

**Chapter Two**

"**One Man's Curse is Another Man's Blessing"**

The final gunshot snapped his eyes wide open.

Once more, Jack took a deep breath, raising himself into a sitting position. To his surprise, he was sitting atop five rotting corpses in some sort of crude morgue. His hat and tools were missing, but he still had his bandana and the rest of his clothes. Stretching his neck, Jack took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. The stench of rot no longer bothered him, for it was a scent that he encountered daily. So he was able to relax, easing his muscles as he basked in his new life.

Jack chuckled to himself, remembering how Morgann had initially warned him against signing the contract, claiming that many considered immortality a curse. But to Jack, it was more of a blessing. Death did not scare him. Fear was not a word he was familiar with. And failure was unacceptable. Jack knew that he couldn't let even death come between him and victory.

Or in this case, revenge.

Dying, he knew, would harm his reputation. Once word got out that Jack had been defeated by a band of misfits, the mob would no longer fear nor respect him. That was something he was not about to let happen.

Jack took a lit torch from the wall and stepped up to an old door. He rattled its handles, but the wood refused to budge. After a moment of thought, Jack pressed his torch against the door, setting the wood on fire. It would take time for the flames to eat through the wood, but there was no doubt in his mind that it would weaken it enough for him to be able to knock it off its hinges.

Bones crumbled as the messenger appeared at his feet, speaking in its monotone voice, "One hour to sunrise, Jack."

"Oh, good 'morrow, Charles," Jack spoke nonchalantly to the small creature. "It was just on my mind, what time of night 'twas."

"You're a long way from home, Jack," the skeleton informed him bluntly. "We'd get moving if we were you."

"I've only one flask. Wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Morgann. I'll find a place to hole up, and return to him on the 'morrow," Jack explained.

"And what will Morgann think when you don't return?" the messenger countered.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver the message to him? Inform him that I've run into a bit of trouble, and won't be back 'til the next moon," Jack suggested.

"Why not?" Charles sighed. "We _are_ your messengers, after all."

"Your dedication is much appreciated, my old friend. Now then, if you'd excuse me, I'll be off," Jack nodded slowly, stepping up to the burning door before knocking it open with a boot.

"You didn't read the last message you received, did you?" Charles questioned.

Jack stepped out, into a dark cellar, his torch in hand. With his free hand, he loosened his collar, the heat of the flame starting to get to him. Once he was comfortable, Jack only glanced back at the undead messenger, "'Til dusk, Charles."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness.

The old bell tower was high above the ground, giving Jack an exceptional vantage point. The floor beneath was dark and cozy, an infected corpse already lying on a mattress under a couple layers of sheets. It was easy enough to drop the corpse over the side of the tower, but it was well decayed, leaving a strong stench behind that even Jack found foul. The mattress was ridden with maggots, but Jack dealt with the discomforts, knowing full well that he needed as much rest as possible if he were to continue his hunt the next night.

Jack had managed to find a few shells of ammunition. They did him no good without a rifle, but he slipped them into his pockets anyway. A fire poker was the only adequate weapon he had come across. If he hoped to take down the hunters that killed him, he'd need his personal weaponry back. But where his tools were, he had no idea.

_Perhaps I could send Charles out to look for them for me. _

Fully-clothed and with his crude weapon at the head of his mattress, Jack rolled into a comfortable position, allowing his eyelids to close and his muscles to relax.

Jack's biological clock woke him up just as the sun had set. Using one of his empty jars, Jack retrieved a comfortable amount of water from an old sink. The water tasted fine, so Jack had no concerns regarding drinking himself sick. A rotting apple was the only other sustenance he managed to find, however. Picking at the bruises and maggots with the sharp end of his poker, Jack sunk his teeth into the fruit.

_I've had worse. _

Dropping the apple into his sack, the hunter took the rest of his belongings before moving up to the bell tower, surveying the streets about him. The nightly mob was already on the move, their torches raised high as they searched for the creatures they would one day become.

The thought of it all was sad, really, though Jack had no sympathy for the poor. Beggars, thieves, murderers, and psychopaths, they all were.

His eyes fell upon the Cathedral of Nightingale in the distance. Its clock was glowing in the moonlight, its dark exterior practically invisible amongst the stars.

Moving his bandana back up to fit over his nose, Jack began his descent to the street below.

Jack kept to the alleyways, hoping to avoid the mob as long as he could. A series of the walks led straight for the cathedral, anyway.

Ahead, an infected man was crying for help. Gunshots were heard, followed by a chilling howl.

The alleyway opened into a courtyard, where a large, jet black wolf was engaging a single man, two more at its feet. The infected man, wielding nothing more than a club, stood no chance as the beast tore him limb from limb.

_Found you, Sasha._

Jack readied his fire poker before catching a flash of movement on the rooftops. Slowly backing into a shadow, he watched curiously as two fellow hunters descended from the rooftops, encircling the Hound. Jack recognized them from the moments leading up to his previous death. One was clearly Luna, who just so happened to be wearing his hat, the other a short woman in an old robe.

Luna was wielding Jack's custom blade awkwardly, while the stranger utilized a dagger and a flintlock pistol with great finesse.

A bullet did little more than enrage Sasha, who lashed out with vicious strength. The stranger managed to slide under the beast's arm, driving her dagger into the Hound's shoulder. Sasha raised herself onto her hind legs, howling menacingly as the stranger dangled from her shoulder awkwardly. Luna rushed forward, swinging Jack's blade. The saw sliced through the beast's skin and drew blood, but it was no where near a worthwhile blow. Sasha spun, throwing her arm into Luna's chest, sending her tumbling across the stone floor. Jack's blade slipped from her hand, clattering against the stone. The stranger managed to dislodge her blade from the beast and dropped to the ground. Sasha lurched, attempting to pounce on the hunter, but the human was too swift, sliding out of range.

Perfectly still, Jack eyed his signature weapon as the vicious fight continued.

The wolf turned to bare its teeth at the stranger. With a single, swift motion, she slashed at the creature, leaving a deep gash just under the beast's left eye socket. It spun, smacking her in the stomach and throwing her across the courtyard. Luna pounced from behind, driving both of her swords through Sasha's shoulder blades. The creature reared up, onto her hind legs and howled, attempting to shake Luna off.

Seeing the moment as perfectly opportune, Jack rushed forward, scooping his weapon off the floor before driving it straight through Sasha's abdomen. The beast howled as Jack forced the blade upward, shredding flesh and internal organs. Withdrawing the blade from her stomach, blood, shreds of intestines, and bile sloshed out alongside the metal. The wolf groaned, falling onto her side as blood splattered onto concrete.

Luna lost her grip, toppling onto the stone ground. The stranger moved forward, cocking her flintlock pistol. A final bullet ended Sasha's whimpering. She chuckled, "And this was the beast that nearly slew Mr. Ripper? Pitiful. Thanks for the..."

Jack slapped her pistol out of her hand before moving behind her and forcing the handle of his weapon against her throat, suffocating the hunter. Luna stood, startled, drawing her blades from Sasha's corpse.

"Oh my Lord..." Luna muttered, clearly in shock as she made no motion to help her ally. "Jack? The Ripper? I...I heard stories about you returning from the dead, but I...I thought they were just that...stories..."

"You thought wrong," Jack hissed, violently tossing the half-unconscious stranger aside before swinging his blade at Luna. She blocked the blow with her blades, but Jack skipped forward, knocking her leg out from under her. He then jammed his weapon's handle against her head, forcing her onto the ground. Reaching down, Jack silently retrieved his hat from her head before returning it to his own.

"Jack, please," Luna begged, raising a hand as she dropped her weapons. "You don't understand."

Taking a step forward, Jack forced his boot against her chest, "I understand all I need to. You're working with that group, aren't you? You were merely a lure. Yet you had courage. Killing you now would be a waste of talent. So I shall strip you of your weapons and allow you to leave. But in return for sparing your life, you need to do me a favor. Go to the others. The brute, the priest, the knight, the rifleman. Tell them that I have returned. Let them know that I will hunt you all down one by one and feed your bloody bits to the Hounds. Now go."

With that, Jack turned his back to her, moving to grab the other hunter by the hood, dragging her to the edge of the courtyard.

Luna stood slowly, hesitant as her ally began to regain consciousness. Jack moved to an alley, taking an old fire bin and dragging it over to the stranger. Using a flint stone he liked to keep with him to light his torch, Jack ignited the bin, illuminating the otherwise dark courtyard.

"Jack, look, I don't think you understand what's going on here," Luna spoke carefully.

Jack hooked his weapon to his belt, moving to pick up one of the other hunter's dropped daggers. Testing its sharpness against his glove, Jack responded casually, "You've already said that, miss Luna. And I've already told you that I understand everything I need to. Now, if you don't mind, I have business to attend to."

He moved back to his victim, dropping to a knee before her.

"Skeleton Jack," she mumbled with a slight chuckle. "I must say, I underestimated you, Mr. Ripper."

"You certainly would not be the first," Jack replied, forcing her mouth open to check her teeth.

"Jack, please! Just hear me out! I'm trying to _help_ you!" Luna urged.

"Thus far, all you've been good for is a bullet to the head and an equally horrible headache. Unless you have a pliers, I'd suggest you leave," Jack sniffed.

Before Luna could say another word, Jack dug his dagger into his victim's mouth, carving through flesh to remove a tooth. The whole while, the woman was screaming on the top of her lungs.

Horrified, Luna took several steps back before hurrying into the darkness.

"Smart girl," Jack chuckled to himself, eying the newly removed tooth for a long moment before sliding it into his pocket.

"Fuck!" the huntress exclaimed, holding her bleeding mouth in agonizing pain.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Jack spoke softly, almost warmly, "Do not worry, love. It only gets worse from here. But hang in there and I promise, you _will_ die in the end. And trust me, when I'm done with you, that's all you'll be asking for."

The stranger spat blood in his face, baring her remaining teeth as blood streamed down her neck, "Go to hell!"

Jack smirked under his veil, standing to wipe blood off his face with his cloth, "You know, in all this excitement, I forgot to ask your name. How rude of me! Oh, you _will_ tell me your name, won't you?"

She glared up at him for a long moment before speaking, "Thorn."

"Thorn?" Jack echoed, sliding his cloth back into his breast pocket. "The name's a little cliché, I must admit, but it has a nice ring to it. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss Thorn."

"So...what're you gonna do to me?" Thorn inquired, a hint of fear in her eyes.

Jack eyed her, amused, as he held his dagger over the flame, "Nose to the grindstone, I see. I like that in a woman. Perhaps you may receive my special treatment. Very few have the honor nowadays, y'know."

"You're a sick fuck, Jack," Thorn growled.

"My, my, that's quite the mouth you've got on you, isn't it now? We'll have to fix that," Jack smiled, turning to look at his dagger. A few moments passed before the metal was orange enough to satisfy him. Forcing Thorn's mouth open once more, he drove the steaming blade into her mouth, his fingers muffling her cries as he carved out her tongue. He forced her head forward as to prevent her from choking on her own blood. She struggled against his hands, but his superior strength and force rendered her attempts futile. Once her tongue was free, he wrenched it out of her mouth, throwing her head down as she coughed up blood. Jack chuckled to himself as he peeled loose shreds of skin off of the tongue, "There. That's better."

Thorn attempted to say something, but due to the large amounts of blood pouring from her mouth and her lack of a tongue, she was reduced to unintelligible mumbles.

Slipping the tongue into one of his many pockets, Jack unhooked his weapon from his belt, swiping at the air to extend its length.

"Now the _real_ fun begins."

Jack left Thorn's corpse naked and unrecognizable. She had been stripped of every last one of her extremities, her eyeballs had been gouged out, her remaining teeth removed, and severe burn scars covered her face.

Sasha's corpse was nearly dry, but Jack managed to retrieve two flasks worth of blood from her flesh. Utilizing nothing more than shear strength, Jack wrenched one of Sasha's teeth out of her mouth, testing the sharpness of the selected tooth with his finger. Once he was satisfied, he slipped it into his pocket alongside Thorn's tooth.

Taking one of Thorn's flintlock pistols, as well as a few shells of ammunition, Jack moved down the same alleyway Luna had used. His weapon was coated a dark crimson, covered in fleshy shreds of internal organs and peels of skin. He used his cloth to clean it to the best of his abilities, but before long he was reduced to pick at the intestines with his fingers. A good swipe at the air removed any loose material that remained.

The moon was high in the sky by then, illuminating the alleyway with an eerie glow. Above the roofline ahead, Jack could see the clock of the Cathedral. "11:43" it read. Soon, it would be midnight.

Soon, the real fun would begin.


	3. The Letter

**Bloodborne – Something Wicked**

**Chapter Three**

"**The Letter****"**

The Cathedral of Nightingale towered over a graveyard, illuminating the grove with a soft glow akin to moonlight. The only other sources of luminescence were lanterns scattered haphazardly about the grave site and the moon itself.

Two tall, withering hollows of clerics were standing guard at the main entrance. They eyed Jack suspiciously with empty, colorless eyes as the hunter stepped through the main gate.

The only other person within the vicinity was a middle-aged woman in a white robe. She was kneeling before a particularly decorated gravestone. Her head was lowered, her hands clasped in prayer.

Jack eyed her curiously before turning his attention to the clerics. Tightening his hold on his weapons while keeping them lowered and at his side, the hunter held his head high as he approached the guards.

Once he was halfway across the site, the praying woman spoke in a delicate voice, "You're late, you know, Mister Ripper."

"I'm sorry?" Jack inquired, slowing his pace. "Late for what, exactly?"

"Miss Luna and her companions left already," the woman informed him. "She insisted they all leave before you arrive. I told her it was rude, but she wouldn't listen. Stubborn, that girl can be."

"Is that a fact?" the hunter wanted to know, easing his way toward the woman. "I don't suppose you caught where they were headed?"

"Miss Luna said they were going to pay someone a visit. I think the name was...Morgann?" the woman answered slowly. An odd feeling shot into Jack's heart as she added, "It's impossible to be sure, of course."

"You've been most helpful madam...?" Jack spoke quickly, his voice trailing once he realized he had not asked the woman her name.

"Nightingale will do just fine, darling," the woman chuckled softly.

"As you wish. I must be off. Until next time, Nightingale," Jack bowed ever so slightly. With a final glance at the clerics, he hurried out of the graveyard.

The city of Yarnham was eerily silent, and Jack couldn't tell why. The mob was not shuffling, no hounds were howling. It was as if Nito's miasma had struck once more, forcing the city's inhabitants into their beds, where they were doomed to die.

Jack had no complaint, however. It made his journey swift and easy. No fool stopped him in an alley, no mob blocked the street, no hound watched him from the rooftops.

The hunter had just started to get used to the peace when a beast rushed from an alley, throwing him onto the concrete street. Fangs dug into Jack's forearm as claws tore skin from his abdomen, his ears filled with vicious, bloodthirsty growls. He drove the sharp end of his boot into the hound's underbelly, causing it to loosen its hold on his arm. Shortening his weapon, Jack slashed the jagged blade across the dog's throat, tearing muscle and flesh. The hound writhed, splattering Jack's veiled face with blood before collapsing on the cobblestone beside him.

Metal rubbed metal as a large, hulking beast of a man stepped out of the same alleyway from which the dog had come. Two more hounds were at his side, their teeth bared viciously.

"Misteh Jack!" the man laughed, his arms wide as if welcoming the hunter to an embrace. "Miss Luna said ya was alive, but I didn't quite believe it!"

Jack slowly raised himself to his feet, extending his weapon to its full length.

"Nose to the grindstone, I see," the hulk grinned, sliding his large ax from its holster on his back. "No time to talk?"

Jack fixed how his collar sat against his throat, "I've about had it with your crusade. I apologize if I come off as rude, but I do not appreciate the lot of you gunning me down and then claiming you're trying to help me."

"Help ya?" the man inquired, confused. "Why would we help ya?"

Jack eyed the man suspiciously, using the time to wipe his arm of his own blood, "You don't look like the lying type. You weren't aware of Luna's offer to help me?"

"Miss Luna?! Argh, I _knew_ she couldn't be trusted! Once I'm done wit' ya, I'll let her have it!" the brute growled, readying his weapon for combat.

A sly grin coming across his face, Jack raised one of Thorn's pistols, firing a bullet into one of the hounds' skulls. The dog had no time to whine as it dropped and its twin rushed forward. Bending his knees, Jack swung his weapon at the most opportune time, driving the jags into the hound's abdomen and throwing it across the street. Standing tall, Jack drew his second pistol to fire at the man, but the projectile ricocheted harmlessly off of his breastplate.

The hulk chuckled before rushing toward Jack. He swung, but Jack slide forward, slashing at the man's legs with his cleaver. His blade connected with the man's armor, throwing Jack off balance and forcing him to ease himself with a hand. The larger man turned, swinging his ax a second time, but Jack ducked under the blade before rolling further away.

The living hound rushed around its master before lunging at Jack with its teeth bared. Jack swung his blade, slashing the dog out of the air. Before it was able to rise, Jack approached it, driving his blade through its torso. The hound whined and thrashed before falling limp.

"Ya ain't bad, Misteh Jack, I'll give ya that," the hulk spoke, breathing heavily.

"Tired already?" Jack sniffed. "We've hardly even started."

"Don't get cocky," the man hissed.

"While we have this respite, may I ask your name?" Jack inquired patiently.

The larger hunter narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Rhos. Why?"

"I wanted to know what to put on your tombstone," Jack explained whimsically. Without warning, Jack lunged forward, driving his blade into the man's flesh just between two plates of armor. Rhos screamed in pain as Jack tore through flesh to pull the blade out.

As Rhos dropped to his knees, Jack smirked, "But 'Achilles' will do just fine."

Jack latched his saw cleaver to his belt, sliding the fire poker he had used previously from a makeshift holster on his back.

"You's a dead man, Jack!" Rhos roared, groping at the hunter's attire. "Killin' me won't solve anythin'!"

"But it _will_ remove a thorn from my side," Jack pointed out, testing the poker's sharpness against his finger. He paused momentarily, his eyes widening, "You know, wouldn't that have been a great line to use when I killed Thorn? My Lord, hindsight is perfect."

Enraged, Rhos took his blade, swinging it around toward Jack without rising from his knees. Jack brought the fire poker up, blocking the attack. Utilizing the hook carefully, he pulled the blade from Rhos's hands. Swinging the poker around, he drove the same hook into Rhos's ear, the large man screaming in agony as Jack twisted the tool to tilt the hunter's head back.

Taking hold of one of the hulk's teeth, Jack spoke, "Are you certain you're a hunter? Your teeth...they look canine."

Speaking as best as he could with Jack's hand in his mouth, Rhos snorted, "My contract was special."

"So are your teeth. Mind if I have one?" Jack inquired politely. Before he received a response of any sort, he forcefully wriggled the tooth until it came loose. Pocketing the souvenir, Jack forced the hook out of Rhos's ear, tearing the cartilage away from the flesh.

Rhos screamed to the heavens, allowing Jack to drive the sharp end of the poker into the beast's eye socket. Swiveling the tool, he squeezed the man's eyeball until it popped into mush. The big man tried desperately to free himself of anymore pain, but Jack was too quick, driving the poker into his second eye. Once Rhos was blinded indefinitely, Jack drove the poker into his stomach, sliding the metal rod between two plates of armor. Rotating the metal and sliding it around to ensure every single one of Rhos's internal organs were ruptured, Jack spoke to the dying man, "It was real nice getting to know you, Rhos. But I'm afraid this is where we part ways."

With that, Jack thrust the poker inward once more before forcing Rhos onto his back. Leaving the dying man with a rod through his gut, Jack continued down the street, casually reloading his flintlock pistols.

Within the hour, Jack arrived at Morgann's doorstep. The door was hanging wide open, having been broken off its hinges. Inside, Morgann's old wheelchair had been abandoned, a splatter of blood spread across the floor. Bloody footprints led down to Jack's secret entrance.

Kneeling on the wooden floor, Jack wiped some of the fresh blood with his finger tips. A simple smell told him it wasn't Morgann's. Either Morgann went with a fight, or they shattered his jars. Given Morgann's physical state and lack of balls, Jack was willing to bet it was the latter of the two possible scenarios.

Jack's grip tightened as he spun, whacking Morgann's wheelchair with his weapon and sending it reeling across the room. Taking a couple deep breaths, Jack swallowed, fixing his collar. Straightening his spine, he quickly returned to his calm demeanor. Rarely ever did Jack let himself lose his temper. Not since his transfusion.

In his lair, Jack plotted his next move. The hunters, who he had decided to dub "the Crusade of Nightingale", were a serious threat when packed together, but dropped like flies when they scattered. As for the one they called Luna: she was to be left alive. Jack had questions, and he knew she had answers. But once she outlived her usefulness, all bets were off.

Jack's number one priority, however, was Mr. Morgann. Why he had been taken, Jack didn't know, but it was common knowledge that Jack and Morgann worked together; most of their enemies were either too smart or too cowardly to go after Morgann, knowing full well that they'd have Jack after them as soon as they did.

It was apparent that the crusade was either dumb or courageous, though Jack guessed that they were a bit of both.

The hunter readied his arsenal, retrieving one of his repeater pistols to take the place of his rifle. He cleaned his robe and sharpened his saw, taking with him a dagger and a pack of smoke bombs.

As he readied his equipment, his eyes chanced upon the letter once more. The letter that Luna, supposedly, had sent him. Undoing the ribbon, Jack unrolled the scroll.

_ Dear Mister Jack, _

_ I truly regret to inform you that there is a plot transpiring against you. Within the next forty-eight hours, an attempt will be made on your life. I've heard stories of your returning from the dead – I pray they are more than mere stories. A man has hired a group known as the Hunter's Crusade to kill you. I fear that not even you will be able to stop them. _

_ That is why I write this letter to you. I am a fellow hunter, and I only wish to help you, Mr. Ripper. I know where the Crusade resides: the Cathedral of Nightingale. It's their headquarters, of sorts. How do I know this? The Cathedral is my home. They've forced my mother and I into submission. Should we meet...please, do not trust anyone, even someone you've known for a very long time, and especially not someone new. Especially not me...I'll do what I can to help, but my family comes first. I'm sorry. _

_ I know who hired the hunters to begin with, but this is neither the time nor the place to tell you. Please, I beg of you, Mr. Ripper: tread carefully. You are the most feared and well-known hunter of all of Yarnham, but even you have your limits. _

_ Regardless of what I say or do should we meet, know that I am a friend. I'll do everything in my power to help you. Why? I know something you don't. I know something that only one other person knows. I know something that could make you a god. _

_ Powerful men make for powerful allies. _

_Sincerely,_

_Luna Nightingale_

Jack lowered the paper, skimming over the lines once more. The letter made him angry, but it piqued his curiosity even more so than Luna herself ever did.

Crumpling the paper and tossing it across the room, Jack grabbed a set of keys from his wall, moving to the kennel in which he kept his dogs: Merlin, Fang, Cat, Lady, and Noose. As he approached them, the pack howled, clawing against their restraints. They knew better than to harm Jack, but the key to their kennel meant they were about to be fed.

Opening the kennel, Jack removed their restraints and the hounds dashed about him workshop, eager for what was to come. Taking his whip, Jack had the dogs form a loose circle about him. They knew this formation – they were going on a hunt.

And Jack knew just where to go.


	4. The Pack

**Bloodborne – Something Wicked**

**Chapter Four**

**"The Pack"**

Jack's loyal hounds made quick work of the cleric guards, tearing their flesh from their bones as the greedy creatures indulged themselves in the simple pleasure of the meal, caring not where the blood spilled.

With a swift boot, Jack kicked the front door open, wood giving way to air as a dim light filled his vision. Before him, in the nave of the church, stood Luna and the huntress with a long rifle.

The stranger was quick to push Luna toward the altar, exclaiming, "Shit! He's quicker than we thought! Alert Hollin while I hold him off!"

Though hesitant, Luna was quick to do as she was told, hurrying toward the back of the church before disappearing through an open doorway.

The sniper turned her rifle toward Jack, but he was quicker on the draw. In a flash, he tossed a dagger her way, the blade striking her rifle with just enough force to throw her aim off balance. A bullet clattered against the cobblestone wall, reverberating its screech throughout the vicinity. The sudden sound alerted Jack's hounds, all of whom rushed to their master's aid, pouncing on the enemy to both disarm her and pin her down. Cat dug her jaws into the woman's foot, teeth piercing through her leather boots. Merlin took hold of the stranger's right forearm, refusing to let go as she thrashed and blood squirted the dog's face. Noose clambered up, onto the woman's torso, barking viciously as he salivated on her chin. Fang pulled at the woman's hair, tearing roots from her cranium as Lady wrestled the woman's rifle from her grip. Once the weapon was free, the canine dragged the piece back to her master. Jack patted her on the head before taking the rifle in his own arms.

Jack checked the rifle's barrel to ensure a bullet was ready as he stalked toward the woman. She screamed and thrashed against his dogs, but it was no use. They were too hungry to be denied. She attempted to kick Cat's face with her free leg, but Jack struck her leg first, prompting Lady to sink her teeth into the exact spot the butt of his rifle had struck.

Now completely at Jack's mercy, the woman cried out, "Jack, please! Call them off! I'll do anything, _tell_ you anything you want, just make them stop!"

Jack took his whip from his belt and cracked it against the stone floor. Almost immediately, his dogs released the huntress, turning to look up at their master.

"Off!" was his command, and the hounds hurried away from the bleeding woman to stand beside Jack. The huntress curled to nurse her wounds, avoiding eye contact with her assailant.

Jack dropped to a knee beside her, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

In a voice cold in more ways than one, the woman responded, "Hawk."

"Hawk," Jack echoed, caressing the huntress's face with a finger. "Now that's a name worth merit. Tell me, Hawk, where is Morgann?"

The warmth leaving her body, Hawk began to shiver, "The sanctuary. But believe me, Mr. Ripper, you won't like what you find there."

Brushing a lock of her hair away from her eyes, Jack tilted his head, "That's no concern of yours. But before I let you go, I have another question. Were you aware of Luna's efforts to help me?"

"H-help you?" Hawk inquired, skeptical through tiring eyes. "What makes you think she wishes to help you?"

"That's what I figured," Jack sighed, standing tall and taking a few steps back. So Luna had been honest in her letter after all. Somehow, her actions the night prior suddenly seemed excusable. "Well, it was nice chatting with you, Miss Hawk, but I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness."

Jack raised his rifle to aim it at the ceiling. Seeing this, his hounds inched closer to the dying woman, their jaws salivating more than before.

Realizing what was about to happen, Hawk's eyes shot wide open as she opened her mouth to protest. But it was too late. Jack fired a bullet into the ceiling, and to the dogs, he was ringing a dinner bell. The pack tore into Hawk's flesh, tearing her limb from limb as they fed vigorously, finally having a decent meal that they knew Jack would allow them to finish.

While his hounds fed, Jack prepared his arsenal once more, retrieving the dagger he had thrown and reloading Hawk's rifle. He did not wish to rush his hounds, they had earned the meal, and so he spent the remainder of the time scanning the room, keeping an eye out for Luna or any other hunter. His eyes chanced upon a stone statue of a kneeling woman with candles in either hand. That style of statue wasn't uncommon in Yarnham at the time, many streets were lined with them, but something was different about this one. Its expression was as solemn as the others, her features as degraded as many he had seen. The candles were dwindling, her robe was ragged and torn, indeed everything appeared normal at first. Until he noticed two sleek shapes pressed to her back. This statue wasn't of a praying peasant at all.

It was an angel.

A sudden image appeared in Jack's head, almost as if he had seen that exact woman before, though he knew it was impossible. Angels were beings of myth, deities for cowards that lacked the initiative to lead themselves out of their sorry lives.

And yet, he found the statue mesmerizing.

Lady pressed her nose against Jack's leg. He turned to see that the pack had finished their meal and were eagerly awaiting their next set of orders. Jack tapped his knee to get them to come close. Readying his saw cleaver, the hunter started toward the back of the church, where Luna had gone.

Once he was halfway down the aisle, a tall, older man in a religious robe stepped out of a side door, an old wooden staff in his left hand, an eerily bright lantern in his right.

Jack turned, raising his rifle with a single arm as his dogs dispersed amongst the pews. The man raised his staff, an odd mist coming from the wood. In a flash, the mist turned into light before shooting toward Jack, wrapping around him like a rope and tying his arms to his sides. The hunter struggled against the otherworldly restraint, even growling with the effort, but it refused to give.

"Dogs! Kill!" Jack cried, and his hounds rushed the man from all corners of the room.

The stranger slammed his staff into the ground, a burst of light exploding in every direction about him as the dogs neared. Some of them caught in mid-jump, every hound was thrown off balance, colliding with pews or walls.

As the hounds returned to their feet, the man raised his lantern, a flash brighter than any other illuminating the room. Jack shielded his eyes by looking away, but the hounds weren't so lucky. The light entranced them, blinding them to their surroundings.

Once the light dimmed, Jack felt his restraints give a little. Using all his strength, he tore the light apart, forcing it to turn to mist once more. Taking his rifle, he spun to aim it at the stranger, but Lady, with eyes glowing like a banshee, rushed him, her teeth bared. Instinctively, Jack fired a bullet into her chest, shredding skin and fur as the dog whined, losing her balance before slamming into a pew. Realizing what he had done, Jack knelt beside Lady, whose eyes had returned to normal. She was looking at her master with a disappointed look. Not one that said "why?" but one that said "I'm sorry".

Lowering Hawk's rifle and returning his saw cleaver to his belt, Jack drew his repeater pistol, gently placing the barrel against the dog's head. In an instant, there was a gunshot and Lady fell limp against the stone cold floor.

Jack took a deep breath, holstering his pistol once more to load another shell into his rifle. Slowly, the holy man moved toward him, the remainder of Jack's hounds trailing behind him.

"Simple beasts, they are," the man spoke solemnly, almost as if he was sympathizing with Jack. "They think they know loyalty, justice, but when it comes down to it, their thoughts and actions are based solely on survival. This fact alone makes them so easy to manipulate."

Jack turned his head to eye the cleric. There was a red glow in Jack's eyes that showed even before the light of the man's lantern basked his face. Keeping his rifle lowered but at the ready, Jack unhooked his saw cleaver from his belt.

"Still," the man sighed, seemingly unaware of Jack's continued hostility. "They become close friends. Your being able to kill her so easily shows much about you, Jack. You're a dangerous man. And yet, in using your revolver, you showed me something I never expected to see from you: mercy."

With a quick pivot, Jack elongated his weapon to jab the rusted metal end toward the man's face, stopping only inches before his nose, "You don't know me."

As soon as Jack finished speaking, he noticed his dogs beginning to circle around him.

Gently pushing Jack's weapon aside, the man spoke calmly, "You say that with such confidence, and yet, I get the feeling I know you better than you know yourself. Magic is a wonderful thing. It can be used for bloodshed, yes, but it can also be used to understand other people. And when people understand one another, we're able to solve problems without violence."

Jack took a step back, doing his best to watch the dogs while paying close attention to the cleric's lantern.

"You're a clever and powerful man, mister Ripper," the man told him. "Had we met under...different circumstances, there's no doubt in my mind that we would've become good friends. But even now, I can tell your heart is drawn toward bloodshed. Men like you are the reason men like me exist. I stand for peace, for order, but every so often, I run into a problem that words alone can not fix. You are one of those problems, and this is one of those times."

Before Jack could react, the man struck the ground with his staff. Instantly, Jack's own hounds rushed forward, tearing into his flesh and shedding his blood violently. Cat, Fang, Merlin, and Noose: their fangs, covered in his blood, were the last images Jack saw before he died.


	5. the Beast Within

**Bloodborne – Something Wicked**

**Chapter Five**

"**the Beast Within"**

Jack's body twitched, air rapidly filling his lungs as the final moments prior to his death flashed before his eyes. The sensation of blood sticking to his skin was replaced by tight muscles in an instant. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jack pulled himself into a sitting position. Somehow, he was weaker than normal. His muscles still ached and his eyes were sore. Contorting his spine, he cracked his neck and his back. Had he been resurrected quicker than normal? Was it a result of that cleric's magic?

Whatever the reason, Jack didn't dwell on the issue for too long. He was in a jail cell, likely underneath the cathedral, and had been stripped of everything. Clearly, his enemies had learned from their past mistakes. And yet, they had been kind enough to leave the lantern outside his cell ablaze.

Taking hold of the bars of his cell, Jack pulled himself up, onto his feet.

A dog slammed into the bars on the opposite side, its teeth lashing out for Jack's fingers as it attempted to slide its head into the cell. Jack stumbled backward, startled, before he met the dog's bright, possessed eyes.

"Noose," Jack sighed, watching his hound struggle to reach him. Eventually, he gave up and proceeded to pace back and forth before Jack's cell, eying his master all the while. "Come on, buddy, it's me. You DO remember me, don't you?"

Noose shook its head, snarling viciously.

Jack stepped closer to the bars, pointing a finger at a table across the way, "See those keys, Noose? Those keys on that desk? Could you pass them to me, boy?"

Noose looked up at Jack before turning to look at the desk as if he were contemplating something. Without warning, Jack lashed an arm out to grab Noose by the tail, pulling him toward the cell. The dog yipped and thrashed before Jack's hands found his head. With a single, swift and forceful motion, Jack snapped the dog's neck and the hound went limp.

Gently resting the body on the floor, Jack muttered, "I'm sorry, Noose. You deserved a better fate."

After taking a brief moment of silence, Jack dug his fingers into the dog's jaws, swiftly removing a loose fang from the hound's mouth. "I never _did_ want to have to do that. A warrior is meant to take trophies from his prey, not his friends."

Jack eyed the tooth, scraping it against a bar of his cell to clean it of blood, before carefully wrapping his arm around the cell's door and wedging the sharp end of the tooth into the lock. An awkward lock pick, no doubt, but it would have to do.

He heard a door swing open followed by hurried footsteps. Pulling away from the door, Jack curled his fingers to conceal the tooth. In a flash, Luna appeared before his cell.

Jack stiffened, eying the woman curiously as she examined the scene around her, "Oh, Jack...your dog...I'm so sorry...and here I thought..."

"I don't give a shit what you thought," Jack hissed through bared teeth, stepping closer to the bars. "Because of your little crusade, two of my dogs are dead."

"Jack, I know how you must hurt, but _please_, for once, just listen to me!" Luna spoke hurriedly. "Let me help you!"

"You can help me by getting me out of this cell," Jack demanded.

Luna took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, but I cannot do that. I told the others I was going down to make sure Noose didn't eat you, so if you suddenly show up, out of your cell, all eyes will be on me."

Jack eyed her for a long silent moment before shifting his gaze to the table beyond her. Luna noticed this and turned to see what had caught his eye.

Without warning, Jack lashed an arm out out of his cell, grabbing Luna's collar and pulling her back, into the bars. Keeping her head pressed against the metal, he drew Noose's tooth, roughly placing it against her throat.

"Jack, stop this, please!" Luna begged, struggling against his grip.

"Not until I'm free! See that key on the table? Kick it over to me," Jack spat.

"What? Jack, you cannot possibly..." the huntress started.

"Do it or I'll shove this tooth down your throat!" Jack growled, an animal glow in his eyes as he bared his teeth with anger. He had never felt such an uncontrollable surge of emotion before...was it the jail cell?

Carefully, Luna stretched her leg out to catch the key ring with her heel. A swift pull threw the keys to Jack's feet. Jack forced Luna away from the bars only to slam her back into them. He then pushed her against the table, throwing her off balance and causing her to slump to the floor. Quickly, Jack took the keys and unlocked his jail cell, switching Noose's tooth for the key itself as he took Luna by the collar once more and slammed her against the wall.

"Jack, you have to stop this!" Luna pleaded. "You're driving yourself mad!"

Enraged for no discernible reason, Jack took Luna by the face and smashed her head against the wall before switching to the other side of her and smashing her face down against the table. Luna opened her mouth to beg further, but Jack forced his knee into her jaw, throwing her head back against the wall once more. Luna's face went blank as she slumped against the floor.

Breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through his veins, Jack paced before the unconscious huntress, waiting for her to make a move. Something inside him, something in his blood, was itching for another fight.

"Get up!" Jack finally growled. When he elicited no response, he kicked her in the stomach before repeating himself, "Get up!"

When still she did not respond, Jack turned, throwing everything off the table with a single swipe. He slammed his fist down on the wood, his muscles tense as he struggled to control his breathing. A single droplet of blood dripped from his face and landed on the tabletop.

Surprised, Jack wiped his nose with a finger, pulling away to find his nose was bleeding. But why? Had he hit his head on something without even realizing?

Gradually, his breathing returned to normal and he was able to relax his muscles. Standing straight, he cleared his throat. Remembering he was naked, he turned to look at Luna, who was still unconscious.

Kneeling down beside the woman, he began to undress her, searching her pockets for hidden weapons. All he found was a flintlock pistol and a dagger.

Her clothes were nothing fancy and they weren't particularly feminine, though the breast of the shirt stood out a bit much for his liking. The boots were taller than his, and the waist tighter, but he'd have to make do until he learned what they had done with his belongings.

Once he was clothed and she the one naked, he eyed her curiously. Her joints were abnormal, almost looking as if every single one of them had been broken at one point or another. Most intriguing however was her neck. After she had fallen, it had bent into such an inhuman position. Her bones shouldn't have been able to withstand that much stress. Had be accidentally snapped her neck when he threw her against the wall? He hadn't intended to, but he HAD been surging with adrenaline.

Wishing to investigate further once his business was done, Jack dragged Luna into his jail cell before locking the door from the outside. After stroking Noose's neck once more and gently closing his companion's eyes, Jack stood tall, marching down the hallway in the direction Luna had come from.

But something still bothered him...what had caused him to go berserk on Luna? Had she injected him with something while he was unconscious? Possibly adrenaline or testosterone? That would also explain why he had woken up prematurely. Though Jack doubted Luna knew how to properly utilize a syringe. Perhaps she had fed him a beast blood pellet? If so, he vowed to never swallow one again.

The knight and the cleric were the only hunters left to deal with. Though there were, of course, Cat, Fang, and Merlin. He knew he'd have to deal with them sooner or later, but something inside him hoped it was the latter.

Hawk had mentioned that they were keeping Morgann in the Sanctuary of the church, which was likely located toward the back. Once he had returned to the nave, he examined his surroundings curiously before moving toward a door in the back. But as he neared the door, he began to hear voices, and he was quick to conceal himself.

"Shouldn't the huntress be back by now? She _was_ only checking to make sure Mouse hadn't eaten Jack, wasn't she?" one voice said

"The hound's name is 'Noose', and I speculate she had other intentions than simply checking up on him," the second voice remarked. If his memory served, that sounded like the cleric.

"Other intentions? You're not trying to suggest..." the first voice muttered suspiciously.

"I'm not trying to suggest a thing," the cleric interrupted. "Though, I wouldn't blame her if she wished to play around with our prisoner-even if we _are_ in a church."

"I believe we're long passed the point of keeping the grounds holy," the stranger chuckled slightly.

"I suppose you have a point," the cleric sighed. "At any rate, I'd suggest we give the woman more time."

"Very well. I don't wish to run the risk of walking in on such an act. By the way, your level of...understanding of Luna's mentality concerns me..."

"What ever do you mean?"

"I'm just saying...you almost make it sound as if you're jealous of Luna's...initiative."

"There's nothing wrong with finding attraction in your own sex, you know."

"This conversation is now over."

Cat appeared in the doorway, practically dragging her feet as her head hung low. The poor thing looked exhausted...was it the spell? Or had the cleric not allowed them to rest?

The hound turned to look at Jack, though it was clear she didn't have the energy to put up a fight. Jack backed away from the door, making sure he stayed out of the hunters' sight. He drew his blade with his right hand, pretending to take something out of his pocket with his left. Holding the imaginary treat out for the dog, Jack waited until Cat was near before lashing out and taking hold of her muzzle, holding her mouth shut. His blade came around to pierce the back of her head. The hound didn't even have time to whimper before she slumped to the floor.

Old wheels creaked as a familiar voice growled from within the room, "What do you two think your doin', standin' around and chattin'?! There's work to be done!"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise, then they narrowed in anger. Was that..?

"Well, we finished portioning the water like you asked," the cleric stuttered. Something told Jack the new arrival was the one in charge, which meant it couldn't have been...

"Then prepare the altar! Honestly, do I have to do _everything_ around here?!" the gruff voice hissed. "And where's that girl? She's needed!"

Jack took a deep breath. There was no denying it now: it _was_ him.

"Luna went to check on the prisoner, she'll return any moment," the cleric assured the man uneasily.

"She's needed _now_!" the voice insisted.

The first stranger spoke, "Do not worry; I'll fetch her."

Before any of them could move, Jack stepped out of his hiding spot and into the doorway. Raising his arm, he aimed his flintlock pistol at the newcomer's heart.

"Good 'morrow, Mr. Morgann."


End file.
